


For What We Are

by Miah_Arthur



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Hallucinations, Haunting, Humor, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Hurt/Comfort, Mortality, Not Season/Series 04 Compliant, Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Post-Season/Series 03, Puns & Word Play, Shame, Wikipedia Level Comics Knowledge, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-26 12:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18717325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miah_Arthur/pseuds/Miah_Arthur
Summary: Chloe and Lucifer may still have their jobs, but what about their partnership? As they work to solve the haunting death of kinky Uncle Jorge, Lucifer faces a haunting (or is it a hallucination?) of his own. Eve has a message for him, either way.





	1. At Least We Dropped Cain into the Nearest Volcano

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my betas, Matchstick Dolly, Alecto, Wollfgang, and Obliobla for all their hard work, especially for wrangling my grammar into something fit to be read by other people. 
> 
> Credit for many, many puns: Filii Hircus members–Obliobla, Emynii, Wollfgang, Matchstick_Dolly, Puerile, TheYahwehDance
> 
> Special credits: TheYahwehDance for knowledge of LA, old cars, and men's fashion. HiroMyStory for deep dive brainstorming, and Filii Hircus for tons of general assistance, love and support. Thank you all.  
>  
> 
>  

# For What We Are

 

### 

 

**_"Is this the real life?  
Is this just fantasy?  
Caught in a landslide  
No escape from reality  
Open your eyes"  
―  
"Too late, my time has come  
Sends shivers down my spine  
Body's aching all the time  
Goodbye everybody I've got to go  
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth"_**  
— _Freddie Mercury_

 

****_“We feel guilty for what we do. We feel shame for what we are.”_ — _Lewis B. Smedes_

 

### 

 

## Chapter One

#### At Least We Dropped Cain into the Nearest Volcano

 

Lucifer didn’t run. That day in the loft. He stood there while the detective–while Chloe–had a mini meltdown. He wasn’t sure if it was bravery or terror that kept him rooted to the spot, but he didn’t run. She didn’t shoot him or tell him to get out of her sight, and he didn’t run.

His wings ached, even tucked away, and his arm bled freely, but he didn’t run. They cleaned the crime scene once she realized backup wasn’t coming. She removed the absurdly high number of bullet casings from the upper floor. He hid his devil face and stayed rooted to the spot while he reached out for the bits of tarnished divinity around him and burned the feathers to ash.

She ordered him to dispose of the body and bag of shell casings, so he flew again despite the pain. This time transdimensionally, so only a moment passed between lifting the body and dropping it into the nearest volcano. Pity Yellowstone had no visible magma, but he knew the acid pools would completely dispose of the body in less than a day. He’d seen it on the news when a foolish tourist accidentally fell in. He watched for a minute as the flesh and clothing began dissolving. Even if he were due for a heavenly smiting for killing a human, it was an immensely satisfying sight that he savored.

He reappeared in the loft and that.... That’s when she stabbed him.

Lucifer had blanks in his memory at that point. They felt oddly out of place. Jagged edges marring his eons of recall. The blankness perhaps explained why his subconscious kept forcing him to relive it every time he closed his eyes.

Surprise. That was the first thing he experienced. Before betrayal. Even before the pain. She was standing eye to eye with him, her arm extended to his torso, and for a moment her eyes were his world. Then pain centered itself, white hot in his chest. Maze’s knife was buried to the hilt, curved tip reaching toward his arm.

“Detective?” He folded to the floor. 

The knife remained in her hand, sliding free of the wound as easily as it had made it. Shooting him when she first saw his face, he had thought that a real possibility. Killing him in the same manner he had Cain hadn’t entered his mind. It was poetic. If it didn’t hurt so much he’d appreciate the irony.

“Lucifer!” She appeared next to him. “I didn’t expect it to go–did it go through the _bone_? Oh g–I didn't put that kind of force behind–I didn't think–an ambulance is on the way. I called while you were gone. Come on, sit up. You’ll be _fine_. It’s only your shoulder.”

Lucifer’s head swam as she pulled him into a sitting position. He drew in a deep breath and grimaced. “It hurts.”

“Of course it does. Pierce shot me, stabbed you, and got away.” She pressed something to the wound, and the pain focused even more tightly on his upper right chest. It was a terrible spot to get a real wound. He'd seen the effects of it many times, so many nerves and blood vessels.

His lung.

Every breath drawn in hurt. Confusion, betrayal, and grudging respect warred for his attention. “You’re not going to f-finish it?” He leaned forward attempting to open his lungs and draw in more air. It helped, but every breath tightened the bands around his chest. 

“Finish?” She sounded brittle. “I’m not trying to kill you. We needed a plausible explanation for why we’re here and Pierce isn’t.”

“I’m”–he pulled in a breath–“The devil. I thought you–”

“I’ll deal with that when I have time." She pressed tighter on the wound, making him gasp. Tears ran down her face. "I'm sorry. Lucifer, I'm sorry. I’m not letting that bastard take my job, too. This was the only way I could see out. I'd never have been able to do it with you looking at me, expecting me to stab you. ”

“H-how clever.” Lucifer’s hand slipped and he collapsed to the side.

“Lucifer! Shit. Your lips are blue. What did I do? I wasn’t–I thought it would be like what happened in the club. Can you hear me?”

“It hurts. To breathe.”

“Just stay calm. EMS will be here any second now. Stay calm. You'll be alright. You'll–”

“And everything gets fuzzy, until that handsome man shoves a needle into your _damned_ chest and you could breathe again. Blah, blah, blah.”

Lucifer startled from his position on the floor. He could breathe again, even though the needle hovered above him. The detective was frozen across the room, paramedics frozen above him. And standing beside him was a woman. She was young, at the end of her teens. She had dark eyes, dark hair, deeply tanned skin, and wore only a simple white dress. He tried to scramble to his feet. Nothing but his head obeyed his command. He started to speak, but she flicked her wrist and his voice was silenced.

“Yadda, yadda. I’ve heard it all, Lucifer. Let me remind you. I’m Eve. This is what, the fifteenth, _twentieth_ time through this nonsense since you dragged me out of The Dreaming?”

He frowned. The Dreaming was a myth, and Eve was dead. Was this guilt manifesting in his dreams? Linda was fond of saying things from his life–

“Good grief! You even think too loud. Should I have let you get to the part where they shove that metal torture device into your chest to tunnel through to your lung? I almost like that part, just to see you turn green, but I’m booooorrrrred, Lucifer! Every. Single. Time you fall asleep! And it’s not even like once a day. _What_ are you doing to yourself in the waking world?”

She glared at him when he didn’t answer, then chuckled. “Oh, right.” She waved her hand at him again. “You may speak.”

“If I’m dreaming, why are you in charge?” He gave her an assessing look. “And dressed. Usually beautiful women in my dreams are older and much more fun.”

“Better than forcing yourself to relive torture! She stabbed you. You almost choked to death on air. Now she’s angry at you, so you’re killing yourself. Slowly. Props, actually. It’s a good bit of torture you’ve designed for yourself.”

This was getting ridiculous. He wanted to be in his penthouse, pouring a drink right now. He concentrated on making it happen, but he remained stubbornly trapped.

He frowned. “She has reason to be angry with me. As do you.”

“Luci, Luci, Luci. We’ve been over this. Yes, long, long ago, Cain was my son. _And so was Abel_. Cain should have died a few years after he murdered his brother. If I wasn’t an archetype, I would no longer exist, or would be trapped in heaven or hell. I’m happy in The Dreaming, Lucifer. Which is why you need to return me.”

“If I could return this dream, I most certainly would. It’s not like feeling the detective stab me in the chest repeatedly is my idea of fun!”

“This isn’t working. You’re killing yourself, and, not only do you not believe me, you don’t remember me when you wake up. Oh, fine! Have your blasted drink.” With another wave, the loft was replaced by the penthouse and Lucifer could move freely. He heaved himself to his feet and moved to the bar, but his phone began ringing.

As he reached for it, Eve grabbed his hand. “Perfect!” she said, smiling impishly.

He woke groggy, face pressed to the marble tile of his bathroom. The phone stopped ringing. He’d gone to sleep in bed. He was sure if it. Renewed ringing had him pushing himself up off the floor and groping the counter for the offending object.

“H’lo.” He blinked, catching sight of himself in the mirror. He looked wrecked. Like he had had _all_ the fun before passing out. Even his voice was low and rough, like he had put his throat to most excellent use the night before–without remembering it, apparently.

“Lucifer. I don’t care who or what you’ve been doing, but we have a case.”

“Of course, detective.”

She gave him the address and hung up without saying goodbye. He sighed. It was progress. She’d had dispatch call him to the last two cases. _It was progress_. He could cope with being patient. 

No evidence of sexual partners or mind-altering substances littered the penthouse, which was disappointing. Given the state he was in, he'd have preferred to find he'd forgotten an orgy. He found his blankets strewn in a trail roughly leading from the bathroom back to his bedroom. He had certainly _started_ in bed. Disturbingly, confusion was now part of his morning routine. 

He rubbed his chest. He had been increasingly mortal since he killed Cain. He hadn’t shrugged off the knife to the chest like the last time he’d been stabbed, even when the detective had gone away. The hospital hadn't even complained about inhuman results with his blood, which shouldn't have been possible. He had remained in hospital for several days, struggling to breathe, and even now breathing wasn’t as free as it had been. A deep ache remained, restricting his movements.

He tried to keep it light and normal for the detective. She had ample problems without him moaning over an act that had been shrewdly effective. It had worked well. The FBI had swooped in and taken over the Sinnerman case. It turned out that lying in a bed with tubes emerging from your chest and an oxygen mask strapped to your head was a great deterrent to anyone thinking you had killed and disposed of a missing mob-boss-turned-police-lieutenant.

Cain’s henchman fired the bullet embedded in the detective’s vest. Cain’s prints were on the knife, and he was nowhere to be found. Oddities like a broken window and why exactly Cain’s lackeys had fired on each other clearly couldn’t be answered by the guy who had been choking to death or the woman knocked unconscious.

He applauded the detective’s cleverness. He really did. He did as he carefully threaded his clothes over his right arm and buttoned them. He did as he took extra time to fix his hair mostly one-handed. He did as he coughed, clutching a pillow to his chest and forcing himself to move his arm through the prescribed range of motion exercises. It wasn’t her fault that ending Cain’s life seemed to have ended his immortality. 

Worse than the lingering pain from the stab wound, though, the bullet wounds and broken bones in his wings vexed him. They huddled in the dimensional space he banished them to, aching and filthy, and he thought at least one of the wounds still bled. The damage had been considerable, but not sufficient to draw anything other than normal blood, and that bleeding had all but stopped before he tucked them into their dimension. Overall he counted himself lucky that none of the wounds had...well blood wasn't too bad overall. Still they refused his calls to physical reality, and they couldn't heal outside it. The bastards.

His other powers were behaving strangely as well. His devil face refused to appear. The flames wouldn’t ignite in his eyes. People no longer felt his magnetic pull. He couldn’t even bring his flask to work for comfort drinking, because his metabolism had slowed to human proportions, and hangovers were now a thing.

He was careful with his makeup today. He had been wearing more lately to cover up the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness that haunted him. He had to maintain a semblance of normality. He had a reputation after all. As he applied his eyeliner, he caught sight of movement behind him.

No one was there.

The pocket square he'd placed in his customary spot was gone. He didn’t have time to find it now. He chose another one and went downstairs to meet his driver of the day. He loved his Corvette, but it was a beast to drive normally and impossible with his shifting arm throbbing after nothing more than dressing.

The car wasn’t waiting for him.

He checked the app, and the request had been canceled. He called a new driver. Thankfully one was in the area, so the delay wasn’t too long. He hadn’t canceled the order. On purpose anyway. At least the traffic was good, he arrived at the crime scene less than an hour and a half after the detective called.


	2. This Little Light of Mine. (Not So Little, My Dear.)

## Chapter Two

#### This Little Light of Mine. (Not So Little, My Dear.)

 

The scene was crawling with police. He was late. He wandered inside and spotted the detective near Ella. The forensic scientist was regaling her audience with the tale of death spread out before them. The body had been removed, but that didn’t deter her.

“So the victim, Jorge Thompson, eighty years old, he’s getting out of the shower, right? And he steps on the mat, only it zips out from under him and he falls. His head slams into the lip and...” She waved at the presumed location of the body.

“It sounds like an accident, Miss Lopez,” Lucifer said from the doorway.

Her enthusiasm was unfazed by his statement. “You’d think that, but see this?” She shined a light on an oily patch. “It’s super slick. I think it’s lube, actually. Close the door, will ya?”

“So it was like the slip ‘n slide at Semen World?”

Ella chuckled. “Good one. Okay. Now hit the light switch.”

Even with the natural light filtering through the stained glass windows set high on the outside wall, the area Ella had pointed out glowed a faint green.

“Is that from a test you ran?” the detective asked, side-eyeing Lucifer in the dark, warning him not to be himself over this.

He smiled. He may be largely mortal now, but he still had _excellent_ senses. “Puts the ‘light’ in fleshlight, wouldn’t you say?”

“A man is dead, Lucifer.”

“Sorry, I have to work it in as much as possible, detective. Lube can be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands. Not my hands, of course.” Lucifer could practically hear her rolling her eyes now, and that spark of normality between them warmed his heart.

“Turn the light back on. This doesn’t prove anything except our victim had”–she cleared her throat–“interesting tastes.”

“Except, this is like a whole bottle on the floor, but I didn‘t find any empty. Whoa! How did it get on the _ceiling_?”

Lucifer looked up. A passing cloud had blocked the natural light, revealing faintly glowing footprints across the floor and splatters up the walls and even a couple on the ceiling. “Reminds me of my date with Pollock,” he quipped.

“Lucifer. Lights. Now.”

“I believe we’ve stumbled upon a new type of high fructose _porn_ syrup, Detective.”

Ella giggled, but the detective humphed and he knew he had pushed it too far for their fragile working state. He suppressed a sigh and flipped the light switch.

She pushed past him without a glance, calling back over her shoulder, “Let me know if you find anything useful, Ella.”

Ella was already busy collecting samples, but shouted a cheery “Will do!” at the empty doorway.

Lucifer moved closer to her.

“Watch out, it’s slippery!”

“Why, Miss Lopez, so forthcoming.”

She smirked at him and waved a hand at it. “I’ve seen raves less lit than this.”

Lucifer chuckled. “All the glitter and flash reminds me of the seventies.” He touched the largest pool of lube and tasted it.

Ella looked at him, horrified. “Dude! This is a bathroom floor. Where someone died! Think of the bodily fluids involved, man.” Her voice took on a scolding tone. “And how many times do I have to tell you to stop tasting evidence? It’s disgusting!”

“No. It’s Laser Saber: Light Your Knights. I thought I recognized it. It has a very distinct flavor profile and scent.”

Ella squealed with laughter, before schooling her features back to serious. “Okay. Still disgusting, but helpful at least.” She tapped him on the arm with her fist. “And hey, you got her to roll her eyes this time. It’s progress, right?”

“It is.”

“What are you waiting for? Follow her!”

Lucifer sighed dramatically for Ella’s benefit and said, “Fine, fine.” 

He stood up carefully, his head didn't like sudden rises in elevation the last few days. Ella watched him, but went back to work without comment once he was up.

He found Chloe talking to Officer Stevens. She continued with her draconian, ‘take me seriously’ approach she had adopted since the incident. Her body language was all tension and straight lines. He pushed aside thoughts of massages to ease those bunched muscles... She finished speaking to Stevens and moved down the hall, presumably toward the bedrooms, while he was distracted. Her clothes lacked the flair she had once displayed. It was all boring, dull, conservative clothes, like you might find on the other detectives these days. She also hadn’t had much use for his antics since he’d returned to the station, and even less since she’d been off desk duty.

She hadn’t told him to not return, and she still hadn’t shot him, so he could be patient and give her time to come to terms with his devil face. He rubbed at the ache in his chest before following her. Mortality was entirely too long lasting right now to risk getting shot. It would be smarter to run Lux and wait her out, but he owed it to her to let her define what they were now. Until she told him otherwise, he would continue to behave as normally as possible for her, glowing lube jokes and all.

She was leaving the first bedroom and moving toward another when he caught up to her. “For what are we searching, detective?” he asked.

“A man doesn’t own glow-in-the-dark lube without owning any other sexual paraphernalia.”

“Ooh, looking for the deceased’s fun room?” He shook his head. “Such a waste.”

She sighed at that. “Are you mocking the victim’s sex life?”

“I would never! I’m mourning that I never met him. I always love good light sword play, you know.”

“Lucifer, he was _eighty_.”

“I know! Think of all that kinky experience lost to the world forever. It’s a travesty!”

She rolled her eyes and pushed open the next door. It looked like a somewhat normal room. It could even potentially be mistaken for a home gym with the padded platforms, weights, and the brightly colored exercise ball in the corner, but Lucifer could smell the Laser Saber from here. He walked to the closet. The seam of the door frame was obvious, but was cleverly set flush into the wall with no visible handle or hinges.

“Detective,” he said, pressing the release. The door swung open for a satisfying reveal of a very nice collection of toys.

“The lube could have belonged to the victim.”

“It definitely did. I can smell it.”

She gave him a look. One he was becoming quite familiar with. It told him he had just reminded her he wasn’t human, and she was second-guessing her decision to allow him to keep working near her. She turned away, showing her back. She had been doing that a lot recently. He thought she meant it to say she didn’t fear him. He hated that this is where they existed now, but as he was the one to blame, he didn’t have any right to complain.

“The closest neighbors are out of town. We have a call with the HOA president to see if anyone has filed complaints against Mr. Thompson recently.”

He shuddered theatrically even though she wasn’t looking. If he was doing this, he was _committing_. “HOA’s really are works of evil.”

“Lucifer–” she broke off, and turned to face him. She had her arms crossed tightly across herself. “This isn’t working. You can’t just pretend that everything is fine, that nothing happened, and expect me to go along with it. Nothing else exciting is scheduled today. Go home. Come to the station tomorrow and be less”–she waved a hand over him–“you. I can’t deal with your Luciferness on top of everything else this week.”

Lucifer stilled; the only movement he allowed himself was a blink and shifting his eyes to the wall behind her hip. He had her terms finally and she wasn’t done with him. It was more than he deserved. He made eye contact again. “I understand. I’ll see you in the morning, then?”

“Lucifer. You don’t get to sulk and be the injured party here. You _lied_ to me.” She held up a hand to ward off his protest. “You had the ability to prove yourself, and you chose to allow me to believe the lie.” Her voice shifted to a mocking tone. “That you were mentally ill with a tragic past.” She stepped toward him, righteous fury in her expression, but her voice constrained by the public setting. “The truth is, I don’t know anymore whether I can trust you and that is eating me up inside. All the rest,” she said, motioning toward his head, “I’m not afraid of. But, Lucifer, what good is a partner that you can’t depend on?”

His heart fell listening to her. It was worse than he feared. _Lied_ to her? Yes, she _would_ see it that way. He knew she needed proof and he had never provided it. She stared at him, waiting for his answer. He took a steadying breath. “Not much, I’m afraid. I... I won’t trouble you further, if that is your desire.”

She threw her hands up at him. “How can you be eons old and still so bad at understanding social cues?”

He scoffed. “I think I do pretty well considering all but the last few years was spent either in the ‘city that never changes’ directly under dear old Dad’s thumb or in Hell, grasping at mere existence.” He pulled back, took a deep breath. This wasn’t about him. “I’m sorry for my outburst. I’m here, tell me what you wish, and I will endeavor to do it.”

She tilted her head, the dreaded ‘done’ expression on her face. “It’s not my responsibility to tell you how to behave like a human being, Lucifer. You have a therapist, talk to her. Tomorrow, we can work together at the station, but today, go home. Rest. You look exhausted.”

Lucifer swallowed the taste of bile invading his mouth and nodded curtly. “Tomorrow then, Detective Decker.”

Once outside, he ordered another ride. While waiting for it to arrive, he caught movement in the window of the apartment next door. A face peeked through the curtain. So, they thought they could lie, did they? He took a step toward the apartment, but...the detective had dismissed him. He weighed whether she would be angrier at him not following her order or not sharing potential information. She wanted him to be less Lucifer-ish, so perhaps a compromise. He hailed Officer Kemp, but the person at the window had disappeared.

The driver was overly chatty, not leaving Lucifer any time to think about the detective’s words. Back at Lux, he had to first sign off on the vendor orders for the week before heading to his penthouse. He poured a drink and retreated to a chair in the library. It was an automatic thing to do. Pour a drink. He stared at it for a long moment, then set it down. Maybe later. He’d found that booze and an empty, mortal stomach was not a fun combination.

“You’re a complete mess, you know. You’ve got to go talk to her before it’s too late.”

Lucifer groaned. “I fell asleep again?”

“Nope! I followed you out of the dream when your phone woke you up. Now, I can have some fun in this world, and have you actually remember what we talk about.”

“If I’m so boring, why are you even here?”

“Because only you can see me.”

A bark of laughter escaped him. “Hallucinations that admit what they are! Wonderful!” A pillow hit him in the face. He eyed Eve, who was projecting innocence. “I don’t have time for you, you know. I have to decide on a whole new aesthetic.”

“An aesthetic isn’t going to save your life, you big dummy.”

He scanned the contents of his closet. It mostly consisted of suits. Suits were easy, always fashionable, and he could hardly go wrong mixing and matching, even when he and sobriety weren’t on speaking terms. Suits, though, suits were out. Suits were the Lucifer who lied through omission. Suits were the Lucifer who made one too many comments at the crime scene. He rubbed his shoulder. 

Suits were the Lucifer who had hoped that anyone could _love_ a monster.

He sighed. That Lucifer had been sent home. _That_ Lucifer got the _done_ face. He had to invent a new Lucifer before morning or accept the loss of the detective and move on. He was _not_ accepting a total loss, and he certainly was not running. They had spent a lot of time working together in the past. She had _tolerated_ him. He spun into motion. He could find a better Lucifer. One she could tolerate again, and... and that would be enough.

Eve surveyed the ensemble he had finally chosen. “So your goal is to be as boring as possible for your lady love?”

“It’s not boring! It’s... structured. It shows I have boundaries and accept working within them. Besides, this is sophisticated Euro street style, see?” He held the phone out to her, showing images of fashion models wearing similar outfits.

She shoved his clothes to the floor in a heap and hopped up on the table, her bare feet swinging as he hurried to straighten them. “Ogling male models aside, are you even listening to yourself? Since when does the devil willingly accept boundaries?”

“Since I hurt an innocent. Killed a human. _Lied_.” He whirled to loom over her. “Take your pick!” He relaxed into a looser stance. No one was there. 

He slammed his hands into the table where she had been. Of course she wasn't there, because she _wasn’t_ real.

Lucifer arranged the outfit again–grey-brown jeans with a thin boot cut that would ride low on his hips. A cotton sweater in cream, casual suede Oxfords in a delicate grey with rubber soles, and a jacket that was a combination between a pea coat and a sports coat. It was a softer, more neutral style, but had enough nods to his normal wardrobe that hopefully she wouldn’t think he was sulking or trying to imitate someone in the precinct. The times he had done that hadn’t exactly endeared him to her and he was trying very hard not to repeat his mistakes. This had to be... something of him. He had reinvented himself before, and each new Lucifer had to contain a piece of the old or it wore thin far too quickly.

He looked at the suits. He liked being that Lucifer. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. As long as he kept Lux, he could still wear the suits, play the part, and have _fun_. In fact, he would play host tonight. Find company, and if the blasted hallucination insisted on bothering him, she could just watch. A good bit of exhibitionism just added to the fun.

Eve appeared in the doorway. “You don’t get to banish me that easily, you know. I am completely real. I’m just not bound by the normal rules of reality.” She eyed him up and down, fine lines appearing and silver streaking her temple, rapidly becoming decades older as she spoke. “Unlike you at the moment. You do remember that mortal bodies have to be fed several times a day, right?”

At her reminder, his stomach growled painfully. Damned inconvenient mortal needs. His celestial metabolism could handle almost any source of energy. This mortal metabolism was frustratingly picky. It demanded actual food and not just copious volumes of alcohol,something he had discovered immediately upon his release from the hospital.

Eve let him cook and eat in peace – if hovering just at the edge of his vision no matter how he turned his head could be called peace. After he had eaten, he fell asleep on the couch. Succumbing to daytime exhaustion had been happening with disturbing regularity since he had become mortal. His dreams took him through the entire aftermath of killing Cain yet again. This time with no timely interruptions from his hallucination to stave off the most painful bits. The nightmare was followed by a pleasant dream of a tiny village he had visited in the Amazon nearly three centuries past. It had reminded him of his visits to Adam and Eve so long ago. Not a surprising place for his dreams to land, but such a fun people, so it wasn’t a complete loss.

He awoke to low giggles and a finger prodding at his face. He blinked his vision clear and found Eve, once again young, inches from his face. She danced out of reach of his flailing. He sat up and yawned. His cheek felt–he skewered Eve with his eyes. She giggled again. “You drew a penis on my face? How very mature.”

She smirked at him. He checked the clock case. Six PM. He had enough time to clean up and put in his appearance at Lux.

His closet was a disaster. Everything strewn about off hangers, out of drawers, even his makeup had been dumped. He dropped to an empty spot on a bench and stared at the mess. His shoulder and chest ached just thinking about cleaning it. There would be no playing the seductive charmer now. Eve appeared, well out of his reach, and beamed at him.

“Why? You wanted me to be less boring. Why do this and ruin my fun?”

“That isn’t fun. It isn’t what you want. You’re just using it as another way to hurt yourself.”

“I _like_ sex!”

“Sure, but right now? You’re looking to forget yourself when you need to find the cause of your mortality.”

“My father is punishing me for killing a human, even one as vile as _that_ , no offense meant to you. It’s not hard to figure out.”

“If that’s all it is, send me back and I can’t interfere with your ‘fun’ anymore.”

“How can I send back a hallucination? You’re not even real!”

“Of course I’m real. If I wasn’t, I couldn‘t throw things at you.”

A cufflink smacked into his forehead. He ignored her and surveyed the mess again. “I was sleepwalking again. I’m tormenting myself.”

Another cufflink thumped him. "So you’re, what, throwing things at yourself right now?”

“If you were real, I’d snap your fingers after the next one. It’s a good thing for you that you aren’t, wouldn’t you say?”

She disappeared with a little shriek.

It had happened. He had truly lost his mind. His fingers itched to call Dr. Linda, but she was on holiday, and if anyone deserved a break from their life without interruption, it was Dr. Linda. He sighed. The closet still had to be dealt with. Largest items first, he supposed.

“You want torment? I can do torment. _This is the song that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was. And now they’ll keep on singing it forever just because_... This is the song–”

Lucifer had ignored worse while in hell. He could ignore this. At least she wasn’t destroying anything. Two hours later his clothes were put away, and still she sang.

“I’m going to shower now. You could always join me if you’re bored. I can think of so many fun activities that do _not_ involve that bloody song!”

She appeared directly in front of him, startling him. “Admit that I’m real and try to figure out how to send me back.”

“If you want me to believe that, maybe you should try to be useful.” His stomach rumbled, demanding again that he fill it. “Any hallucination of mine would torment me relentlessly, so thank you for proving my point. Now bugger off, I have to feed this worthless body.”

Surprisingly, she disappeared. He scoffed. It would no doubt wait for the least convenient time possible to reappear. He checked the clocks again. He could forget about going to Lux if he wanted to drag his mortalized arse into the precinct on time in the morning. It stayed gone all night and he woke in his bed. He didn’t feel rested, but he dragged himself out of bed anyway. He got dressed, fed the cavernous pit he called a stomach, though after toast it changed its fickle mind and protested even the thought of more food.


	3. To Make an Omelette

 

## Chapter Three

#### To Make An Omelette…

 

He arrived at the station at 8:30.

Ella spotted him as he walked past the break room. “Oh, hey, buddy, new threads, huh? Give me a twirl.”

He slowly modeled them for her.

“I likes! What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion, Miss Lopez. This is a new and improved Lucifer standing before you.”

“Is this about you leaving the crime scene so fast yesterday?” She swatted him with the papers held in her hand. “You didn’t even say bye. And I had jokes! We didn’t even get to glow sticks!”

The corners of Lucifer’s mouth twitched up before he could stop them.

“Aww, see? I bet you had some good ones, too!”

Lucifer glanced around for the detective. Not finding her, he grinned and said, “I have been known to light a few swords.” She giggled, so he continued. “We had a glow stick party at Lux, but that involved illuminating condoms.”

“Glad you decided to 'stick' around!” She laughed loud enough to turn heads.

Lucifer ushered her toward her lab, saying, “Or do you prefer the bio- _lube_ -inescent types, Miss Lopez? Algae and such? Or glow worms. Those are amusing.”

“Oh yeah, the crime scene was all about refulgence.” She nodded at him as if she had told a joke. She sighed at his confusion. “I know. I know. It just means shiny, but it _sounds_ dirty. I bet I get a few snickers when I present this at next year's regional forensics conference!”

“Be sure to include ‘shafted light’ to describe the way the clouds revealed the transference. Really though, it's glowing penises, jokes shouldn't be too hard to come by.”

She laughed. “You got it.”

“I like her,” Eve said, voice chiming with amusement.

Lucifer dreaded giving the hallucination the satisfaction of looking at it, but he couldn’t stop himself. Young Eve stood behind Ella, wearing the same simple white dress and no shoes as before.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ella giggled nervously, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Which I wouldn’t know about personally. Not me. Nope. Nuh uh.”

Lucifer returned his full attention to Ella. “I am perfectly alright, Miss Lopez. You were saying? About refulgence and this case?”

Ella perked up. “Oh, yeah! Take a seat, I’ll show you!”

Eve sat in the corner of the lab and behaved herself while Lucifer listened to Ella’s enthusiastic replay of how they had blacked out all the lights and found a partial shoe print that couldn’t be explained by anyone at the scene.

He forgot he was supposed to be a different Lucifer. He managed to throw in, “I have to say this whole situation is rather illuminating.”

And, “Reminds me of when I brought luminol to that black light party.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve jousted with a torch.” Led straight to Shakespeare and, “Now that’s a well-lit wit.”

Ella dutifully supplied. “A what...?”

“Ask Will, darling. Such a beautifully dirty mind.” 

Eve laughed at that one, a sound that startled him into looking at her again. She smirked at him.

Ella squinted at his focus on the corner, but shrugged her shoulder and pulled up a photo that showed the closet in all its luminescent glory. An array of glowing dildos lined a shelf. She beamed at him. “Glow sticks! Six inches of delight that lasts for eight hours.”

Dan walked through the door. His presence should have warned Lucifer that he was being the wrong Lucifer, but he was having fun with Ella, and his response was nearly automatic. “Eight hours is respectable, if not quite up to my level of stamina.”

Ella high fived Lucifer, and he laughed.

“Dude, gross.”

Ella carried on saying, “Noice!”

“Can we focus on the dead person? Please?” The detective stood behind Dan, still all tension. She eyed Lucifer before dismissing him.

Lucifer reached for the persona he prepared and stretched it over himself. Ella explained her evidence and Lucifer was attentive and offered only comments that contributed to the investigation. The detective looked at him askance a couple of times, and he let himself fade further into the background. 

"So we have the niece and nephew waiting for interviews–" 

The detective's words were cut off by Eve. "This is just pathetic. No wonder you can’t send me back.”

He startled at the sound of her voice in his ear. He turned to her and found her face practically touching his. That was briefly confusing until he realized she was perching on Ella’s work table.

“Get down. You’ll ruin Miss Lopez’s work,” he hissed.

“Oh? Like this?” she asked and shoved a ceramic cast to the floor. It hit the floor with a jarring crash, and suddenly everyone was staring at him.

Dan walked away, muttering about drama queens.

Chloe gave him a hard stare then turned back to Ella. “Thanks, Ella. This has been very helpful.” She gave Lucifer another look before shaking her head and walking away.

Ella retrieved the broom and dustpan. “Aww, it’s okay, buddy. You know I always make a spare. Accidents happen. What’s up with you today, anyway? New threads. You’re jumpy, and so not you as soon as....” She paused as she put it together. “Does this have to do with Chloe being mad at you?”

He took the broom and began clearing away the mess. “Detective Decker has every reason to be irate with me, Miss Lopez. I–” He dumped the broken cast into the can. “I hurt her deeply, and I... I just want to make her more comfortable. If that means avoiding the ‘Luciferness’ then it’s a small price.”

“By not being yourself.”

“It was myself that hurt her.”

Ella stared at him, wide-eyed, for a moment before launching herself at his midsection. “Oh dude, that is so sad. You don’t have to change to be loved, menso.”

Lucifer patted her on the back. “Perhaps not, but if I wish to keep my job, perhaps so.”

She leaned back, but didn’t release him. “You need a little bonding sesh. Sleepover at my place tonight?”

He looked for Eve, but she had disappeared again. It was very tempting. “Pizza and mint chocky?”

“Will your stomach be up for pizza this time?"

"I believe so," he said slowly.

"Great! I even bought an extra tall snuggie just for you.”

He perked up. “The blanket with sleeves?”

“And it’s not even pink. So much more your color. We can finish our rewatch of season two of _Next Generation_.”

“Dochvetlh vlenH.”

“Qapla’!”

Lucifer smiled at her enthusiasm for the invented language. “Seven?”

“Seven.” She finally released him and said, “Now, go out there and remember that even angry, Chloe likes _you_. She’s just having a stressful time right now with Trixie and Dan.”

Lucifer paused at the threshold. “Is something ailing the child?”

“Well, yeah. Think about the last couple of years. Her mom almost died twice and got hurt two more times. Her parents got divorced, both of them found someone new, and then Pierce killed Charlotte and hurt her mom–and you! Poor kid is probably going to be in therapy forever! She’s acting out at school. And Dan is so depressed right now because of Charlotte’s birthday being in a few days that he’s been on a hair trigger and not much help.”

“Precisely why I cannot upset her further.”

“Aww, hey, that’s not what I meant, Lucifer. You almost died. You get to be not okay about all this, too, you know.”

“Not really.” He held up a hand to forestall her protest. “You are better than I deserve, Miss Lopez–Ella. I appreciate what you’re saying. Tonight.” He huffed at the smile that insisted on appearing at the thought of their sleepover. “Tonight will be wonderful, and the perfect time for further discussion, wouldn’t you say?”

“Alright, but that better not be bluffing.”

The smile grew. “Because bluffing is the same as lying. I’m aware of your feelings on the subject and I would never try to bluff you.”

She gave him a playful punch on the arm and said, “That’s right. Now move before Decker gets to the interview without you!”

He managed to slip through the conference room door before it closed. Inside, a woman wearing simple, but expensive clothing tapped her fingers idly on the table. The detective sat and motioned for Lucifer to join her.

“Dr. Brown, I am sorry for your loss.”

“Uncle Jorge was eighty. He slipped and fell in the shower. I’m not not sure why a homicide detective needs to ask me questions.”

“The exact circumstances of your uncle’s death are suspicious, doctor.”

She sat up straighter, the air of boredom disappearing. “How so?”

“Were you aware of any health problems your uncle may have had?”

“Until a few weeks ago I would have said no, but then he started saying odd things during our weekly calls.”

The detective nodded. “Go on.”

“His mind had always been sound before, but he lost his life partner six months ago. He started talking about things being out of place, orders arriving that he didn’t make, sounds he couldn’t explain.”

Eve appeared behind the woman, waving her arms, making faces and rude gestures. “Are we having fun yet, Lucifer?”

“–the exam showed no signs of dementia.”

A song he hadn’t heard in eons dragged his attention to Eve dancing in the corner, and he was mesmerized.

A touch on his arm startled him and he jerked before realizing it was the detective. The doctor was gone.

“Yes?”

“Lucifer, were you even listening to the interview?”

“Mr. Thompson was being haunted, but his brain was in good...” Eve still danced behind the detective. “Working order.”

“I don’t know what is up with you today, Lucifer.” She snapped her fingers at him, and he pulled his gaze back to her face. “I ask you for a little time without you being so, so, so... _you_.” She sighed. “I don’t know why I hoped you, at least, could give me a break today.”

“I’m sorry, Detective. I am trying.” Show interest in others’ problems. That had been what Linda suggested he work on during her vacation. “How is the child?”

“Yesterday, she got caught drawing _devil horns_ on the the principal’s picture. Devil horns, Lucifer. Where would she get that idea, I wonder?”

“I really wouldn’t know. I don't have horns.”

Eve held devil horns up behind Chloe’s head. Lucifer swallowed hard and tried to focus on the detective.

She narrowed her eyes and said, “I suppose not, but Trixie doesn’t know that. The school has assigned her a case worker, and we have to find time to meet with her every week to discuss what we’re doing to deal with the behaviors. It’s just been hard on top of trying to keep my job and"–her hand waved at him and more vaguely toward the rest of the precinct–“everything else.”

Lucifer resisted the urge to rub his chest, even with the pain gnawing at him. No need reminding her. “I am trying.”

Her expression softened. “I know, Lucifer. And I appreciate that. I really do, but try to focus on the case, okay?”

“Perhaps a trip to the washroom before the next interview?”

“Sure. I can give you a few minutes.”

In the washroom, Lucifer checked for occupants before speaking. “Come out where I can see you!”

Eve appeared sitting on the ledge of the high window. “The men’s room now? Boring and disgusting.”

“Stop interfering with my work.”

“I want to go home. You’re not even trying to send me home. You’re killing yourself in slow motion, and won’t even try to stop it!”

“Tormenting me at home is one thing, but in front of the detective? Do not try me!”

“Or what? You have no powers and you won’t have until you stop torturing yourself.”

He paused. “Is that truly what this is?”

“Is that what _what_ is?” Daniel said from near the doorway. “Hey, who are you talking to?”

“No one, Daniel.” And indeed, Eve had disappeared.

“You’re getting weirder, man. Could you just, just not this week? It's a bad time right now.”

“Yes, I heard about–”

“Don’t you dare say her name!” Daniel crowded into Lucifer’s space, fists clenched at his sides. “You-you–“ he sucked in a long breath and backed away. “Just don’t. Please.”

Lucifer couldn’t resist finishing, “I was going to ask about your _child_ , Daniel. I heard she is having difficulties, and I wish her well.”

Daniel deflated before him, and Lucifer regretted his pettiness. The anger of a moment before withdrew from Daniel, replaced by sagging shoulders, downcast eyes, and loosely dangling arms. “Trix, she isn’t taking this too well. She really liked Charlotte, and as much as we’ve tried to protect her, she knows it was Pierce. It was national news for chrissakes! And she’s been worried about _you_. Why haven’t you gone to see her?”

“What, _me_? Visit the child?”

Daniel sighed and shook his head. “I should have known better than to think you could act like a normal human being for once.”

“Hold on a minute. You think the ch-Beatrice would _want_ to see me? Like you’ve said in the past, this is mostly my fault. I’m the reason Cha–someone you both cared for deeply is dead, and her mother was injured again.”

“Lucifer. I don’t always like you. You’re arrogant, condescending, a constant pain in my ass–“

Lucifer smirked.

“ _Immature_ , a few fries short of a Happy Meal, _and_ you steal my stuff.” He motioned for Lucifer to wait. “But! But, this isn’t all on you. You tried to tell us in your own messed up way, and I get that you can’t help the way you are. You saved Chloe’s life. You’re a good partner for her, and when you aren’t being an ass, you’re a good detective. And? My kid loves you. She’s _worried_ about you, and she misses you. So, yeah, she wants to see you, and I think it might be good for her.”

Lucifer blinked and tugged at the cuffs of his jacket, which was not nearly as satisfying in the absence of cufflinks. “Comparing me to a _child’s_ menu item at a place that sells what can only with great generousness be called _food_? Daniel...”

Daniel gave him a stern look.

Lucifer swallowed the rest of his comment. “I would be honored to visit your child, Daniel.” He grinned. “Even if she is always sticky.”

“Sticky? Really, man?”

“Just like her father and his sweaty palms.“

“Gross, man! I have Trixie this week, come by one evening.”

Lucifer let the smile drop. “I will, Daniel. Not tonight, though. I have a prior engagement.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Daniel rubbed the back of his head. “Hey, If you’re done talking to yourself in here, Chloe’s probably looking for you.”

Lucifer left the washroom, and Eve dropped into stride with him. He sped up, so that she had to jog to keep up with him.

“See? They don’t all blame you for what happened.”

Lucifer stopped and stared at her. “Only because he thinks I am so far out of touch with reality that I shouldn’t be held accountable, but we both know _that's_ wrong, don’t we?”

“They could have listened to you.”

“I knew they wouldn’t.”

The detective stepped out of the women's room, and looked around.“Who were you talking to? Are you feeling alright today, Lucifer?”

“Ah, Detective! Shall we complete the next interview?”

She narrowed her eyes at his evasion, but let it stand. “I really need you to focus this time, Lucifer.”

Lucifer glared at Eve who shrugged and vanished. He beamed at Chloe. “Of course, Detective.”

The conference room now held a man, greying at the temples, wearing clothes that were expensive, but worn at the edges. He plastered grief over himself, but his eyes gave away his true feelings. Lucifer loitered near the door as the detective began.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Thompson.”

“Poor old Uncle Jorge. I knew he was getting frail. His health hadn’t been good lately.” The man sniffed theatrically, twisting a handkerchief in his hands.

“What kind of health problems?”

“He had fallen several times, and he was forgetting things. He would call me in a panic saying he heard his dog barking, but couldn’t find it. It died five years ago! And none of his neighbors have a dog. I checked.”

“And had your uncle had any recent medical testing?”

“Of course! I was worried that he needed someone staying with him. He’s not been the same since Uncle Will died. The doctors said he just needed company, and maybe he should see a shrink.”

“Did he follow through on any of that?”

The man flapped his hand at them, “Oh you know Uncle Jorge. He was on the leading edge of gay culture back in the ‘60s and ‘70s. He and Uncle Will got together in...1971, I want to say? They were together forty-five years, but they always made the other promise to play the field if they died, so he took the doctor’s assessment to mean he needed to get in touch with the bathhouse scene. At _eighty_!”

Lucifer surged to the table. “Why is everyone so hung up on the man’s _age_? Is there a time limit on following your desires?”

The man quailed under Lucifer’s gaze. “N-no. I guess not. It was just embarrassing getting calls from that busybody from the HOA about him causing another commotion every few days.”

The detective tugged on Lucifer’s arm and when he looked at her, motioned him to sit. He did it without argument.

“Why would someone from the HOA be calling _you_?”

“I just liked to keep an eye on him. He was old. He kept saying he was hearing things, so I told the woman to call me.”

“You just admitted your uncle’s only diagnosis was loneliness. There was no medical or psychological reason for you to have any say in his life.”

“I thought he had pulled a fast one on them! I had the woman calling me, because I was keeping a record to take to another doctor.” The man scrunched his face up as if to cry, but it was specious.

Lucifer leaned in. “You’re lying.”

“No! I can prove it. I have the notebook with me. Right here!” He dug into the satchel sitting next to his chair and slid a battered notebook across the table.

The detective took the book and began flipping through pages, but Lucifer’s focus stayed with Mr. Thompson. And there it was. A look of satisfaction that flickered across his features when the detective opened the book.

“ _That_ was a genuine emotion there. You planned to give us that ledger. What do you gain from kinky Uncle Jorge’s death?”

“I–I…" Thompson cleared his throat. "I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Lucifer caught the man’s gaze and reached within himself for his oldest power. “Come now, what do you _desire_?”

"I…"

"Yes? Why do you want us to believe your uncle had lost his mind? You want to tell me, don't you?"

The man nodded, but didn't speak. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. A complicated one then. Lucifer reached for more power, tried to push harder, and...nothing answered his call. He rocked back in his seat, momentary panic claiming him, and the man escaped even his initial pull. 

“Is that supposed to make me want to talk? I’m leaving, and any further questions you have will go through my lawyer.”

Thompson stood, his rolling chair thumping into the wall behind him as he stalked out. Lucifer remained frozen in place, staring at the space the man had occupied. The detective looked at Lucifer, aghast, before clearing the expression with a shake. She hurried after the man, trying to smooth things over. 

And now, he was useless to her. She had no desire for his person, his comedic relief, or even his intuitions. He no longer had strength, invulnerability, his devil face, or even his thrice blasted wings, and now his ability to draw out desires had failed him as well. 

He had no more eggs in his basket.


	4. Angels in the Outfield

## Chapter Four

#### Angels in the Outfield

 

He perched on the edge of his seat, hands hanging limply between his knees, head bowed, awaiting her return and final judgment of his worth to her.

She didn’t storm back in and tell him to get away from her forever. Lucifer waited for it. His belly growled at him, and he waited.

“She’s not coming back, you know.” Eve sat on the table, swinging her legs, her toes poking his knee every few kicks.

“Go away.”

“Nope. Ugh. Your head is such a mess! Do you even hear how ridiculously poisonous that nonsense is, Luci? 'You’re just embarrassing yourself here. She thought you were at least smart enough to figure out when you’re not wanted and leave without causing a scene.' Come on, man! If that's what she thought, what was that horrified look she gave you?”

He swiped at his knee after an especially sharp poke. “Horrified. Right. At my doing precisely what she asked me _not_ to do.”

“Ooh, ooh, this bit is good, tell me if I get it wrong. 'She asked you to make her job easier, and instead you got the guy to lawyer up.' Your priorities are all screwed up here, you know.”

“No. It's my fault. I failed at my most essential skill. The core of what I do.”

“Yes, you did. You didn’t even need my help to do it. You managed it all on your own. _Because you won't listen to me_.”

“Did you make it fail?”

“Me? How could I? I’m not even _real_ according to you.”

“I don’t know.” He glared at her. “I don’t know.”

“Look, get me sent home, and you have one less problem, right? We can both agree on that at least. I get to go home, you get to finish killing yourself. We both get what we want.”

“I am _not_ killing _myself_! So lovely of you to keep suggesting it! Also? The hallucination says all I have to do to get rid of it is admit it’s real?” He stood and pointed a finger at her chest. “ _Not_ happening.” Lucifer groaned as he realized he had heads turning to look at him.

His stomach growled again, and he realized there was one thing he could still do to make the detective’s day better and it gave him an easy retreat. He called her favorite takeout place and ordered enough for the detective, Daniel, Ella, and himself. He resolutely ignored Eve while he used the washroom and then waited for the food. She finally subsided into a pout when it arrived.

He slowed his pace so she could more easily walk alongside him. “Nothing to say?” he said sotto voce between clumps of humans.

“Nope. I actually want you to eat. If you don’t do it soon, I’ll shift older, and _she’ll_ mother you until you do. I prefer having the option to throw things at you. So much more fun.”

He waited until a group passed them, and said, “So to make you tolerable, I avoid eating?”

She smirked at him. “You do remember what happened to your closet right? Eat your lunch. Don’t make me mother you, and I will _probably_ not be so annoying later.”

“Probably, is it?”

She danced through the door to Ella’s lab, sing-songing, “Ask me no questions, and maybe I’ll not tell you any lies.”

Lucifer suppressed his response. How did she make him _want_ so badly to answer her? “Miss Lopez! I have vindaloo for you.”

“Sweet! I’ll close up here and meet you in the break room in five.”

He found Daniel and the detective huddled around her computer. Lucifer proudly set the bag on the corner of the desk. The pair considered him, and the hope that had been building faltered. The detective turned back to the computer, ignoring him.

Daniel waved a hand at him, and said, “Thanks, Lucifer. We’ll be there in a while.”

“A big break on the case?” 

Lucifer tried to get a peek at the screen, but the detective caught his attention. “It’s the boring part of the case, Lucifer. Go eat. We’ll be there in a bit.”

“Right. I’ll just go then.”

Eve fell into step with him. “You can only take so much, Lucifer. Why don't you go home, settle down, and do some freaking research. Surely you have something in that library of yours to help fix you, so you can get me home.”

Lucifer gritted his teeth against the urge to talk to her. He probably did have something in his library about The Dreaming. Maybe he should...

“Hey, buddy, where you going?”

Lucifer blinked and Ella was standing next to him instead of Eve. “To the break room, of course.”

“Yeah, you passed that about ten feet ago, dude. Are you feeling okay today? You’re kinda pale.”

“I’m fine, Miss Lopez. Just a little distracted is all.” His stomach growled audibly. “And hungry. Shall we?”

“Sure. Sure.” She eyed him, but went along to the table with no further argument.

Lucifer arranged the takeout trays across a table. “Kerala lemon pickles just for you, m’dear,” he said, handing her a condiment bowl.

“Aww, you remembered!”

“Always.”

Ella picked up their earlier thread on luminescence in between bites, and Lucifer listened. She was a good lecturer. He wouldn’t mind listening to her for hours, if not for the annoying creature standing behind him.

“You do remember you’re supposed to actually eat the food, right?” Eve’s voice sounded deeper. A glance showed her beginning to age.

He shoveled a mouthful in and chewed, and she reverted to her norm. He didn’t want the food. The first few bites had calmed the snarling beast in his gut and he had lost interest. It had been far longer than five minutes and Daniel and the detective had not arrived.

Ella finished her vindaloo and cleared her place. “Sorry to eat and leave, but those tests won’t run themselves.”

The food he had swallowed was beginning to weigh heavily. Eve was sitting in Ella’s empty chair, staring at him with unnerving intensity, but thankfully she was silent. The food had gone cold by the time the Daniel arrived, sans detective.

He microwaved his chicken tikka masala and sighed happily at the first bite. “Thanks for lunch, man. You didn’t have to, and I appreciate it.”

“You have been strangely communicative today. Has something happened? A blow to the head, perhaps?”

Daniel chuckled. “I took a page out of your book and saw a shrink.” He scowled at his food. “No choice, really. Busybody social worker from the school insisted.”

Lucifer scowled at him, his hands clenching into fists. “Someone _forced_ you to go to therapy?” 

“Yeah. Whoa now! It’s okay. Turned out to be exactly what I needed.”

Lucifer pushed the plate of food away, unable to keep pretending to eat. “They shouldn’t be _forcing_ you.”

“Sometimes people need a hard push in the right direction. This was something I couldn’t work through with just the improv. I’m _choosing_ to keep going. For a while, at least.”

His answer mollified Lucifer’s anger. “The child and detective have also been forced to attend?”

“Well, yeah. Trixie’s been through a lot. And so has Chloe.”

“So has Chloe what?” the detective asked.

“Been through a lot lately, “ Dan repeated without looking at her.

Lucifer saw her eyes narrow and the tension in her back and neck ratchet up.

“So you're talking about me behind my back now?”

“Not really.”

The microwave door closed with more force than was needed and Daniel caught on that she wasn’t pleased.

“Really, that was it. I told him I’m going to therapy, he asked about you and Trixie. No big deal.”

“My private life is private, Dan.”

Eve perked up and chanted, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Daniel held up his free arm in surrender. “Sorry, Chlo, thought Lucifer was your partner and... and–” He stopped and took a breath, dropping his hand from its defensive posture. “Sorry. I shouldn’t share your info.” He dropped his mostly empty tray into the trash and said, “Thanks for lunch, Lucifer.”

The detective remained standing with her back to Lucifer. She was breathing more rapidly than normal. Eve stood in front of her making faces.

Lucifer began, “Detective–”

She whirled around, one hand raised. In that moment he saw the demon blade coming at his chest and Lucifer flinched. She stopped, plastic fork in hand and the color drained from her cheeks. The microwave beeped.

She ignored it, staring at him. Eve stood behind her, eyes wide and hands over her mouth.

“Detective, your korma is hot,” Lucifer murmured.

Chloe shuddered, as the microwave beeped again. “Lucifer.” She wavered, then retrieved her food. “We need to talk, but not here.”

Lucifer swallowed at the sensation of his food trying to creep up his throat. She demolished the food without another word, while Eve kept her silence near the sink. He couldn’t bring himself to interrupt either of them.

When she was done, the detective said, “Meet me at my desk after you clean your stuff up,” as she walked out.

Lucifer jolted to his feet to follow her. Fiery bands of pain wrapped from his spine to his sternum at the sudden movement, forcing him back into his chair. He pulled his arm in tight and made himself breathe through it. Small hands on his back, rubbing, soothing, helped it pass more quickly than usual for such an attack.

“Detective?” he gasped.

“No.” Her voice was older again.

“Eve. _Why_ are you doing this to me?” His voice sounded like a pathetic whine, even to his own ears. 

“You need to send me back, Lucifer. I know my younger counterpart can be quite the brat, but you _can_ make this stop. You're not well, Lucifer. This isn't a punishment from on high. _You_ are keeping yourself from healing. You need to believe in yourself and those around you.”

He gripped her hand where it was gently massaging his side. “That is far easier said than done.”

“I know you can do it.”

“That makes one of us, my dear.”

“Lucifer! I thought you were coming?” The detective sounded even more annoyed.

“Coming!” This time he moved more carefully and followed her to the parking garage. Motherly Eve stayed close by his side, a comforting yet distracting presence.

When they got to the detective's car, he tried again. If she was sending him away, he’d preferred to hear it here than trapped in a car. “Detective?”

“Just get in, Lucifer”

He checked with Eve, who nodded, so he acquiesced.

She merged with traffic, her shoulders tight and her grip on the wheel even tighter.

“Are you delivering me to Lux?”

“No. We’re heading to interview the nosy neighbor.”

“We’re what?” The whiplash from his expectations of abandonment to being included made his head hurt. 

“Interviewing the neighbor.” She took a deep breath. “Lucifer. I asked for a day without having to deal with your... stuff, and you’ve been even more distractible than usual. What happened in that interview?”

Lucifer hung his head. “I don–“ He couldn’t say he didn’t know. If Amenadiel and Eve were right, he was doing this to himself. He settled for “It didn’t work.”

“I got that the mojo thing didn’t work. I was there. What I want to know is why?”

“I tried,” he said miserably.

“You keep saying you’re trying. Trying to pay attention. Trying to not be inappropriate. Trying to use your mojo.”

Lucifer straightened until his hair brushed the roof. “My ‘mojo’ was all I had left. I’m all out of eggs"–He slumped back in the seat, defeated–"and I have no wish to bring more burden to your shoulders. I’ll even say it for you. I’m useless.”

Her shoulders hitched, and she shook her head.

He softened his voice. “I’m sorry, Detective. Truly, I am. You have so much to concern you right now, much of which I brought to your life.” He scoffed. “I’ve been selfish in my desire to continue our partnership, but I do not deserve consideration or to add to your burden. I’ll... I’ll not waste any more of your time. After this interview, I can find my own way back to Lux.” He crossed his arms, surreptitiously supporting his aching chest. “If my normal functions return, I’ll phone you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t get to run away.”

“Detective. I have none of the abilities you’ve come to expect. My ability to draw out desires used the last shreds of my power.”

She glanced at him, then back at the road several times. She fiddled with the radio before falling into silence. Lucifer huddled into himself, and turned his head away, staring out the window without seeing anything. 

After several minutes of silence, the detective cleared her throat. He turned to her, focusing on her entirely. She said, "Okay. I believe you. It's not working, and you can't fix it right now." She touched his arm. "But, Lucifer? You aren’t useless, even without your mojo.”

Lucifer perked up. “Really?”

She grinned at his reaction. "Don’t let it go to your head." Her expression grew more serious. "This interview needs to go well. Please. I want to close this case so I can have more time with Trixie this week, okay?”

“Of course, Detective.”

Movement in the rear-view mirror caught his eye, and he saw Eve giving him a thumbs up. She was still her middle-aged self, for which he was grateful. He might even be able to appreciate having _her_ around.

The first neighbor was an elderly woman. She wore a simple sundress that accented her cleavage and hips, and she moved with strength and confidence that belied her seventy-five years. Memories of discos tried to arise, but he kept his focus on the detective and the case.

“Mrs. Kenan? We’re Detective Decker and Lucifer Morningstar with the Los Angeles Police here to ask you some questions about your neighbor, Mr. Thompson."

“Come in, come in!” She led them to her kitchen saying, “I'm making tea. Would you care for a cup?”

“Yes, please,” Lucifer said at the time as the detective’s “No, thank you.”

Mrs. Kenan set an extra cup on the bar and brought out a plate of biscuits. She set them in front of Lucifer, giving him a thorough check with her eyes. “A handsome devil like you likes treats, right, darling?”

“I will always accept a sweet morsel from such a beautiful lady,” he said automatically, but then he looked more closely at her. “Have we met?”

She preened and her eyes darted to a wall behind them. An old movie poster of _The Immortal Monkey of Satan_ starring Angelica Bethany Carolina hung there. The movie was a complete cheese fest, but Satan came off as a surprisingly sympathetic character as he searched for his beloved missing pet. Surprisingly sympathetic devil was a recurring thing in Angelica's movies. He loved her for it, and here he was in her kitchen!

“No? ABC!” Lucifer enthusiastically waved his hands over her curves. “I _love_ your movies! _The Night She became a Devil Maniac_? Classic!”

She ran a hand up his arm and stepped in closer. “You know, you look just like a handsome devil I spent a night with in 1973, in New York. Oh, those were the days, weren’t they? Luding out, dancing half the night.” Her voice got huskier. “ _Dancing_ the rest of the night.”

“You _were_ a naughty angel in those days.”

She pressed closer, her body flush with his. “I still am, darling.”

The detective cleared her throat loudly. Lucifer rested his hand on Angelica’s shoulder and gave her a smile full of promise. He may be useless in most aspects, but he could still oblige a subject's desire to flirt outrageously. He could still buy cooperation for the detective with the bodily assets he had left.

“Lucifer!”

He shook himself. He needed to focus and speed this along. "Right. I’m sorry, Miss Angelica, but the detective and I do need to ask you about the recent demise of your neighbor. However, we _can_ continue this another day, if that is your desire.”

She walked her fingers up his chest. “It is, darling. It is.”

“I promise that I look forward to it.” He gently disengaged himself from her and sat on the barstool near the biscuits.

The detective warned him to behave with a shake of her head. He pulled the quieter, less Lucifery persona to the forefront. “Now, Mrs. Kenan. What can you tell us about Jorge Thompson?”

“He and Will were delightful neighbors. We got along like a house on fire.” She sighed. "I was afraid poor Jorge’s grief was going to do him in one day soon.”

“Had anything changed recently?”

She leaned across the bar, her arm across Lucifer’s to pluck a biscuit from the plate. Lucifer returned her smile. He tried to not fall off the fine line between encouraging this delightful creature and not burdening the detective.

“Well, Jorge decided to get back on the party train. He brought home a new boy almost every night for a while. Not the last few nights before he died though.”

“Do you know of anyone who might want to harm Mr. Thompson?”

“His niece and nephew, maybe. They both want this property for themselves.”

“Do they now?” Lucifer purred. He grasped her proffered hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb.

Angelica's flirty demeanor hardened, and Lucifer's appreciation of her deepened.“Greedy little bastards. They’ve been trying to get him committed since Will died. They keep saying, it’s for his own good, and they’re trying to look out for him, but they just wanted his place. Especially that nephew! He actually encouraged Jorge’s haunting delusions!”

“Haunting delusions?” Lucifer’s eye darted over to Eve, who was still middle-aged and matronly. She motioned at him to stop looking at her.

“–sounds in the middle of the night, furniture rearranged while he was sleeping, food missing that he knew he had bought–and always Will’s favorites moved or missing. He thought Will was haunting him. They told each other to move on, to have fun, no matter their age. I think Jorge was just feeling guilty about being too sad to carry on.” She squeezed Lucifer’s hand, reminding him that he had stopped moving. “One day he came over and told me he had had a long talk with Will’s ghost and he’d made up his mind to move forward.”

Lucifer twitched at that, and Angelica paused to give him time to speak if he wanted. He glanced at Eve and back to Angelica. She moved on. “He went to the Roman and came back with a young stud who couldn’t have been a day over forty.” She shrugged one shoulder. “No more haunting talk after that.”

The detective gave him a hard look for some reason before she said, “You said he hadn’t had anyone over for the last few days?”

She tittered. “The silly dear thought he could keep up with the young men every night. He was exhausted!” She eyed Lucifer hungrily. “Now the occasional night...”

Lucifer hummed at her in appreciation. Her aggressive flirting in the absence of his magnetic pull combined with his love of her movies, the memory of the night they had spent together during his last vacation, and knowing it could all be channeled to help the detective? It almost made him forget his current miserable situation. He felt better about himself than he had in weeks.

“Is there anything else you can think of that might be"–the detective cleared her throat–“relevant?”

Angelica released Lucifer’s hand and moved back toward the door. “I’m sorry, Detective, but nothing else comes to mind. The last time I saw Jorge was when he sheepishly told me he had overdone it with the company and was planning to take a long weekend of resting at home. The next thing I knew he was gone.” She shook her head. “It happens so fast these days.” She held the door open for them. “I’m sorry to rush you, but my personal trainer is due in a few minutes and I need to change.”

The detective handed Angelica a card as she left. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”

“Of course, Detective!”

As Lucifer passed, Angelica pulled him into a deep kiss. It took him longer than it should have to figure out which Lucifer he needed to be–the fun one who wore suits won out–and participate, but it ended well. She gave him a wink and said, “At my age, life is too short to not act on _desires_ , but you understand those don’t you, Lucifer?”

“Only too well, my dear. I will see you again.”

“I’ll be waiting. Not forty years this time, though.”

The detective grabbed his arm and pulled him to the veranda and down to the terrace between buildings. “What was that, Lucifer? Did you really have sex with her in 1972?”

“1973, yes. She’s still a _delight_ , don’t you think?”

“I think I just watched my partner make out with a witness old enough to be my grandmother.”

“Yes?” His fingers rose to his lips and he smiled in the direction of Angelica’s condo.

“I remember those interviews we did." She gave him a hard look. "None of them were over thirty-five, and I can’t imagine someone her age...”

“Think of the _experience_ , Detective. It can’t be beat. Sure young, flexible things are always a delight but there is something to be said about humans who know what they like and aren’t afraid to take it.”

She scowled at him. 

Lucifer swallowed hard. He was failing at holding onto the persona she wanted. It fit badly like a cheap rubber mask, and the old Lucifer kept tearing through it. He should ask for a few days off when this case was over. He could tie the new Lucifer tighter in place. Maybe it wouldn't feel so wrong when he'd had more time to practice.

The detective's scowl softened, and her voice was almost normal when she said. “Let’s get this interview over. I want to get home early tonight.”

The neighbor lived in the adjoining condo, the one where he had seen movement at the window.

“Wasn’t this one interviewed yesterday?”

“Yes. That’s why we’re here today." He got an eye roll this time, but it didn't feel like the fun kind. "No, Lucifer. No one was home yesterday.”

“I saw someone in the window when I left yesterday. I told Officer Kemp.”

“Kemp knocked, but got no answer. Are you sure you saw someone?”

“Yes, Detective. I wasn’t imagining...“ He looked sharply at Eve, who shook her head. “Things.”

She scrutinised him, but shrugged and said, “Okay. We’ll ask him, but try not to make out with this one?”

She waited for his answer, looking at him so much like she once did, that his natural response slipped out. “No promises, Detective.”

She stalked toward the other neighbor’s building without giving him a response.

Something Angelica said flashed through his mind. “Detective!” She continued to march ahead of him. “Detective, I think we need to check something in kinky Uncle Jorge’s home!”

She waved over her shoulder and kept walking. He should probably follow, but it wouldn’t take long to confirm his suspicions, and he happened to be right next to Jorge’s door now. He tried the door. It was locked, but to his pleasant surprise, a flicker of power responded to his query and then the door was no longer locked.

“Detective, I’ll join you in a moment–checking something here!” She had rounded the corner, so probably hadn’t heard him, but fair’s fair, he had called out his location to her.

He smiled, pleased with himself for unlocking the door and for remembering the clue Angelica had given them. Uncle Jorge’s ‘haunting’ happened only at night and only on nights he didn’t have company. A dead dog barking and other noises in empty rooms, furniture moving and food disappearing while he slept. This sounded less like a haunting and more like malfeasance. If he were to ‘haunt’ an abode, he would put the speakers...

“Well, hello.” The tiny speaker peeked out from the leaves of a hanging potted plant. Ella would surely be able to extract evidence from this, and there must be more of them. The detective would be so proud.

He heard a footstep behind him. He lifted the potted plant so he could lower it into the detective’s visual range. “I believe I found our ‘haunting’, Detective.”

“Lucifer, look out!” Eve shouted from the doorway.


	5. A Breath of Fresh Air

## Chapter Five

#### A Breath of Fresh Air

 

The baseball bat caught Lucifer in the upper left chest as he turned, arms still raised with the plant. It caught him across his still healing ribs the demon blade had so easily sliced through. Lucifer fell to the floor, gasping for air, desperately trying to cover his head and curl around the pain at the same time. The bat smashed into his back and legs.

Feet and knees impacted his middle, and then the detective was rolling off the bat wielder and dragging the man away from Lucifer to handcuff him. Lucifer curled tighter around the burning, throbbing pain that exploded in his chest with each inhalation.

“Lucifer!” The detective knelt beside him and gripped his shoulder. “Lucifer, look at me.”

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. This was like before. He couldn’t–

Her hands on his face focused him. He found her eyes and locked onto them until he could hear her.

“Breathe with me, Lucifer. Follow my pattern.” Lucifer tried. “Good. That’s good, Lucifer. Keep going.”

“It hurts.”

“Where? Lucifer. Come on. Keep your eyes on me. Where does it hurt?”

“Breathing.” He took shallow puffs, and the pain eased and the other strikes made themselves known. “My back and leg, too.”

“Let’s sit you up.”

The detective pulled him up to sit and left him propping himself up with his left hand on his knee as she called for backup. She identified the man she had tackled as Brandon James, the neighbor they had been about to interview. Lucifer should have known. People with two first names were always shifty.

Eve appeared beside him, bracing him against her side. “You’re going to be fine. Remember to breathe deep.”

“But that hurts.”

“Hey, mortalized right now, remember? All that mortal flesh needs air. Take a deep breath.”

“Just going to... rest.”

Things went fuzzy for a while. The world sharpened into a semblance of focus inside an ambulance. The edges remained fuzzy enough, and the pain subdued enough that Lucifer knew he must be on the good drugs. A mask fit tightly to his face, air pressure building until he took a breath to relieve it. Eve had gone again. The paramedic began asking him inane questions, and he resigned himself to another ordeal of human medicine.

A few hours and many decidedly not fun indignities later, the doctor declared that the bat had re-fractured the healing ribs and bruised his lung. He was moved to a room for monitoring and oxygen. He reached for his power and there was no answer. He had well and truly fallen now. Mortal, for all intents and purposes. At least this got him the fun drugs.

“Lucifer? Are you awake?” the detective asked, settling into the chair in front of him.

“Detective!”

She looked over him and swallowed hard. “We wrapped the case up.”

Even the safe, floating high of the steady supply of drugs from the IV couldn’t mask the crash of hearing how little she needed him. She had evidence now of the type of the liability he had become. How truly useless. He braced again for her declaration that he need not return.

After her initial statement, she simply sat in the chair beside the bed and watched him. Watched him work through the frisson of panic. Watched his dread build to the bursting point.

At last she said, “Why?” 

“I realized the haunting was not in kinky Uncle Jorge’s head. I thought evidence might remain.”

“We found it. Brandon James rolled over on the niece. James had hated Mr. Thompson for years, and the niece was broke. She wanted the property value.”

“So it was Mrs. Brown, in the lavatory, with glowing lube?”

She snorted. “Yeah, basically.” Her serious look returned. “That’s not what I meant, though.”

She leaned over and touched his bare shoulder over the still raw scar from the demon blade. He drew in a sharp breath at the extra pain the light touch caused. Her hand dropped to the bed. “Why does that still hurt, Lucifer? I’ve seen you injured before and you’re healed the next day. You apparently _actually_ died when Malcolm shot you. Why did this–why did _I_ almost kill you, and why hasn’t it healed?

Lucifer jerked his head up and regretted it instantly. Even muted by the drugs, the jolt of pain pulled a groan from him.

She reached for him, but stopped herself, crossing her arms. “Why are you still here looking like....” Her hand hovered over his chest, but didn't connect this time. She peered at him, and her voice wavered as she said, “Lucifer, what's happening to you?”

He blinked sluggishly at her. He had expected her anger, her dismissal, but not this. Was it compassion? She knew he didn’t deserve that. Guilt or gathering information as to his future potential usefulness, he decided. He could at least absolve her of the guilt. “I don’t blame you. You have nothing to feel guilty about, with regard to this. It was the smart thing to do. Absolutely the right call. Can you imagine the scrutiny if you hadn’t?”

“Lucifer...”

Lucifer sighed. Propped on his side, surrounded and penetrated by medical paraphernalia wasn’t a dignified position to do this from, but it somehow seemed fitting. “Confession time then, is it? Very well. I’ve been vulnerable to injury by mortal means near you since you shot me, but the knife that day was a demon blade. It could kill me wielded by anyone.”

“So shooting you would have healed faster.”

“No…. Not this time, I’m afraid. The old healing factor’s not quite working these days. I’m apparently stuck with _this_ for six to eight weeks. How do humans do it?”

She leaned back in her seat, putting more distance between them. “So now that I know you’re the devil, all your abilities are conveniently gone.”

“Convenient? It wasn’t convenient being in a hospital bed struggling to breathe for a week. It’s not convenient to do the chest physio, to have a human metabolism”–his traitorous stomach rumbled as if to emphasize his point–“or to be injured again so easily. Not to mention the considerable pain, and the knowledge I am no longer of any use to you. If I could make my celestial nature return, I bloody well would!”

“I saw your face. I saw you make his body disappear. How is any of this damage“–she waved her hand over him again–“possible?”

“Well you can’t see it now. My wings have refused to come out since that night. Not even to let me clean them or set the bones. And my face will no longer come when I call.”

She scoffed. “Of course." She eyed him shrewdly. "Is this like the time you said you were kidnapped and wanted to show me something then didn't?”

Lucifer sighed in relief. She understood. "Yes. Exactly like that. Well, for my face anyway. The wings? They're just being stubborn bastards. Huddling in there taunting me with their being filthy."

She looked confused, but Lucifer continued more seriously. “Detective, I’m _mortal_ right now. I don’t have any of the abilities you expect. I’m... I’m useless, and I can’t in good conscience continue to subject you to my–”

“Don’t you dare, Lucifer.” Her sudden vehemence made him flinch, and he bit his tongue to hold back the groan.

She continued, righteous anger in her voice. “You don’t get to make the ‘noble sacrifice’ without my input. Not anymore.” She softened a little. “You make me a better detective, Lucifer. That hasn’t changed. Even without any of your tricks, you’re my partner. You have good instincts and a sharp mind behind the playboy persona.”

She held his gaze for a long moment. “Do you understand?” she murmured.

It was too overwhelming. “Y-you aren’t here to tell me to stay away from you?”

She grasped his left hand and said, “No, Lucifer. I’m here to see how long you’ll be off work.”

“What’s the point, Detective? What use could I possibly be?”

“The point is that I choose _you_ , Lucifer. Not your tricks. You." She swallowed. "All of you.”

“You choose me?”

“Yes. We still need to talk. It’s not simple. My entire worldview was torn apart, Lucifer. I have a lot to cope with–my daughter, my job, my ex, _my partner._ I can’t tell you today what normal will look like for us in the future, but we will get there, eventually.” She narrowed her eyes. “You have a lot to properly explain, but Lucifer...” She shook her head, and the pause was long enough for worry to begin anew.

She brushed the escaped curl from his forehead and drew her fingers down his cheek brushing past the oxygen line. Her thumb gently rasped across his stubble as she lingered over his jaw. “Lucifer, I never thought of you as a set of tools for me to use. Do you understand that?”

“I–I can come to understand.” With a final caress she withdrew, and Lucifer closed his eyes to hide the looming wetness.

She squeezed his hand. “We’ll work on it. _Together._ Okay?”

He nodded.

She held his hand until he had regained control. “How long will you be here?”

“I...” He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure. They said potentially a few days.”

“Will you be okay alone for a while? I promised Trixie I would spend time with her tonight, but I could come back after her bedtime.”

“Of course, Detective, your child needs you.”

She looked at him with uncertainty in her eyes. “Are you sure, Lucifer? Do you have your phone? You’ll call me if anything gets worse?”

“Detective. I will be fine. They are pumping me full of the good drugs. Take care of your child.”

“Are you sure? This isn’t more of your self-sacrificing, 'I’m not worthy' nonsense, is it?”

Lucifer considered his answer. “I don’t believe it is. A child _should_ take precedence over a friend.”

“Okay.” She stood, and after a moment’s hesitation, brushed the stubborn curl away again, and kissed his forehead. “Call me if anything happens.”

His breath stuttered at the unexpected gesture. With reverence, he said, “I will.”

A nurse and physio entered as the detective was leaving. “It’s time to run through the breathing exercises again, Mr. Morningstar.”

If he ever returned to hell, he was adding this to the list of tortures. Lucifer fell into a doze when they finally left. His stomach woke him with its angry growling. He’d been promised food, or at least drink when the nurse left, but nothing was in sight. Being fallen in this fashion was bloody inconvenient. He needed to wrap his head around all that it entailed ASAP.

He’d never been forgiven by his father before, and neither expected it nor was willing to grovel for it as Amenadiel had. So acceptance and adaptation were the order of the day. If he could claw his way to the top of Hell, he could cope with this fragile and near useless mortal shell.

He was contemplating complaining of patient neglect as his stomach rumbled and the call button went unanswered, when the door opened too fast. It thumped the wall and Ella rushed through.

“Hey, buddy! I thought since you’re stuck in here, that I’d bring the sleepover to you.” She piled her bags into the chair and stopped in front of him, eyeing the pillows propping him on his side. “Is there anywhere I can hug without hurting you?”

“Not really.”

She tousled his hair instead.

“Foul play there, Miss Lopez.”

She laughed. “Do you feel up to watching something or would you rather have quiet company? I brought my Picard doll to finish knitting.”

His stomach rumbled.

“Not liking the hospital food, huh?”

“It’s hard to like what I haven’t had.”

“Seriously? It’s like eight at night. I’ll straighten them out.”

She was gone before he could protest, and in short order they’d been in to help him sit up and brought him a drink and a plate of food. Ella watched them like hawks. He smiled at that. Ella followed them back out and was gone while he ate. She returned with a bowl of pudding.

“How you doing there, buddy?”

“Better.”

“You want the bed leaned back?”

“Easier to breathe this way.”

“So, check it out.” She pulled an emerald green bundle of material from her bag. “It’s an extra tall snuggie! The color will look great on you.”

She gently tucked it around him, and he sighed in contentment at the extra warmth. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I wanted to. You’re my friend, Lucifer.” She scowled toward the door. “Besides, someone needs to be here to whip those nurses into shape. Now, where did that pendejo get you?”

“Shoulders, upper left leg, and directly where I was stabbed are the worst.”

“He’s lucky they took him to lock-up before I got to him," she growled. Then switched back to her normal cheeriness. "You want to watch some _Star Trek_ or sleep?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a sleepover without a movie, Miss Lopez.”

She set up her laptop and started an episode. He settled back into the bed. The drugs quelled the pain in his shoulders enough to let him be comfortable on his back and sitting like this took the pressure off his leg. Ella brought out the purple devil emoji pillow he had gifted her at their first sleepover and placed it at his left shoulder. She sat close, and they shared it. Her fingers trailed up and down his arm. He fell asleep, warm and basking in Ella’s care.

With the day he’d had it wasn’t surprising that he dreamed of being stabbed and the subsequent trouble breathing. He felt hands on his face, and running through his hair, accompanied by a soft reassurance, “Shh, shh, Lucifer, it’s okay. It’s just a bad dream. You’re okay, buddy.”

“Ella?” he gasped.

“Yeah, Lucifer, it’s me. You awake now?”

“Hurts.”

“What does?”

He shook his head. He couldn’t get air. An alarm sounded in the room. His vision greyed out. He caught jumbled medical terminology, and he faded out entirely.

When he woke again, he didn’t hurt. Something covered his face. When he tried to swipe at it, his hand came up attached to another. He traced the arm to its origin.

“Ella!” The mask muffled his voice, so he tugged his hand free and tried again to remove it.

“Hey, buddy, leave it alone. Hey. Hey. Look at me. There you are. Leave that alone. You understand?”

He frowned at her.

“Oh, they’ve really got you on the good stuff, huh?” She wiped a cool cloth across his forehead. It felt divine. “Hey, it’s okay, just go back to sleep, and everything will make more sense when you wake up.”

She kept soothing, and he faded out again.

When he opened his eyes next, the detective and a doctor were speaking.

“... contusion has stabilized, but his lung function is worsening. His markers for chronic and acute inflammation were exceptionally high. We’d expect those tests to be elevated after an injury, but these results are from his initial blood panels and it takes at least a few hours for injury to raise them. These numbers are usually associated with severe chronic infection, or more rarely a malignancy, but we can’t find any indication of either.”

“Wouldn’t the previous injury and surgery raise those results?”

“Yes, but not like this. The CT scan showed that the older injury was healing quite nicely.”

“What are you saying?”

“Mr. Morningstar’s condition is serious. If his lung function continues to decline, we will have to introduce mechanical ventilation. If we cannot identify the cause of this massive inflammation–”

His thoughts were clearer the next time he opened his eyes. Eve was in front of him. “Lucifer, what have you done to yourself?”

_I fell. I’m mortal._

“You _haven’t_ fallen,” Eve said. Her voice sounded far away.

“Really selling the ‘not a hallucination’ bit”– _breathe_ –“when you know what I’m thinking.”

“I never said I wasn’t also inside your head.”

He stared at her a moment. He was still sufficiently muddled that he couldn’t tell if that made sense or not. He settled for what he could understand. “What did you mean I’m not fallen?” _breathe_ “Do you think I _want_ to be here like this?”

She stared hard at him. “Yes.”

“I don’t think so. This _hurts_.” He paused a while to catch his breath. “Despite popular belief, I’m not actually a fan of prolonged pain.” _breathe_ “I had enough of that when Dear Old Dad booted me out of heaven.”

She shifted older again. “I’m sure it does hurt. Your divinity is almost gone.”

“As happens when one falls entirely.”

She put on a mocking accent. “Or when one lets it bleed away to punish oneself.”

Oh, Dad.

She might be right. 

That bone _had_ snapped rather forcefully the last time he put them away. He hadn't _seen_ divine ichor, but he hadn't exactly been looking, either.

She rapped him on the forehead. “Now you’re thinking, Morningstar. What d’you say we get out of here and finally stop that bleeding, before you completely kill your divinity?”

“I’ve found that humans are quite”– _breathe_ –“reluctant to allow you in their cars while you’re naked.”

“Fine! I’ll go steal you some clothes.”

“That’s not what I–” She was already gone. Although if she did manage to find him clothes, that would definitively answer the hallucination question. How the hell he was supposed to repair the damage, he had no idea. Breathing was a struggle, even with the mask bound tightly over his mouth and nose. He would have to....

He would have to trust his partner.

She chose him. Even in this pathetic mortal state. She chose him. She’d been given every reason to abandon him, and instead she chose him. He reached for his phone. She chose him, and he trusted her, with _all_ of him.

“Lucifer? Can you hear me?” Fingers tapped his cheek, interrupting his groping for the phone. “Lucifer!”

“Detective! Did I call you?" He reached for his phone again. "I need to call you...”

Her eyes were teary. “I’m here, Lucifer.”

“Eve went to get clothes.”

“Is that who you were talking to?”

“I’m not alone.”

“No. I’m here.” She held his face gently, her hands over the mask straps.

“Ella, Daniel, Beatrice.” _Breathe_. “Dr. Linda. Not sure about Maze.”

“Linda is here. Maze wants to see you, too.”

“You chose me. I’m _not_ useless.”

“That’s right. You’re worthy whether you’ve got devil powers or not, Lucifer.”

“I believe you.” He wiped the tears away from her cheek, though the effort cost him. “I need help, detective.”

“I know it’s hard to breathe right now. They’re getting ready to put you on a ventilator. It’ll make sure you get enough air.”

“Not that. I think I can get them out now.” _Breathe_. “No one’s standing beside me?”

“Oh. Lucifer you don’t mean...” Linda’s concerned voice came from near his feet.

“Linda is standing at the foot of the bed. I’m here.”

“Stop the bleeding.” He rolled as much onto his stomach as he could stand, shaking Chloe’s hands off his face as he did. “Go stand by Linda.” He groaned at the friction of broken bones. “Go! I can’t stop them!”

Chloe was jerked backward a second before his wings burst forth from their pocket dimension. He heard screams overlapping his own. He lost time to breathing and shaking and white hot pain.

When he focused again, his head was in Eve’s lap. Her fingers carded through his hair. He wrapped his good arm around her tighter and nuzzled into her leg. The tableau before him held a dreamy quality. His feathers were ropy with still viscous blood. He looked without connection at how the broken metacarpus had rent his skin. Divine ichor trickled from the exposed bone ends. The wings hung limply, the few bits not covered with gore lacking inner light. The detective lifted a shaking hand toward them.

Dr. Linda’s voice reached him through the dream-like scene. “I think I’ve got the door jammed, but I don’t know how long it will hold. How’s it look?”

“The blood is... glowing. He's bleeding light, Linda. I don’t even...” The detective stood unsure near the damaged bone.

“Just bandage it. Maybe if the bleeding stops, he’ll get better.”

The detective touched his wing. Pain reached its fiery tendrils into his detached state. He whimpered into Eve’s leg, and the detective’s head jerked up.

She squatted, so her face was near his. “Lucifer, what do we need to do?”

“Make it stop,” he mumbled.

“Lucifer?” Chloe’s hands turned his head to face her. “His breathing is really bad.”

“Talk to him. I’ve–ahem–I’ve got this. Maybe.” There was rustling, and he heard a muttered, “I’m _not_ this kind of doctor.”

“Lucifer. Breathe. Deep breath. Now, Lucifer!”

He forced a deep breath and a wretched whine came with the exhale.

“Again.”

He was too tired and too confused to deny her. Distantly he heard an alarm sounding, deeper thumping, shouting.

The detective left. He tried to follow, but Eve held him back. Searing pain blasted him as the open ends of the metacarpus shifted and scraped into place. The relief when the bone snapped into alignment spread like a balm. It didn’t even hurt when his wing was manipulated and something wrapped snugly around the break. If only the noise would stop, he could rest.

The detective patted his good arm. “Lucifer. You need to put your wings away.”

He shrugged his shoulders weakly. The wings didn’t budge.

“Lucifer. Hide your wings.”

He waved at her to go away. _Let me sleep_.

“Let’s make a deal, Lucifer.”

He opened one eye.

“That’s right, a deal. You get your wings out of sight, and I owe you one. Blank check.”

He raised his head and lifted an eyebrow at her. “Sure?”

She nodded. “It’s a deal.”

He concentrated on the wings. They felt so very dim. There had been more divinity left in the pair he’d burned than in this living pair. A deal was a deal, though. He gathered his remaining strength and folded and hid them away in their pocket dimension. Deal kept, he collapsed onto the bed.

“Good. That was so good, Lucifer.” Her lips brushed his forehead as the blackness consumed him.

 

He dreamed of the Garden of Eden and his first visit there. His meeting with Adam. He hadn’t thought of the encounter in eons, and it was one of such joy and the origin of many passions. The scene froze just when it was getting to the best part.

“Alright, enough of that! I mean there’s being a voyeur and there’s taking it too far.”

“Did you enjoy the show thus far?” Lucifer didn’t bother to hide his nakedness. She’d had quite the private show by this time.

“Of course, but enough already. We need to talk.”

“Convenient that you’re back in my dreams, since I’m... unconscious?” He asked with resolute hope. He hadn‘t _died_. Right?

“You’re dreaming," she confirmed. "You finally got the message out there and stopped killing yourself.”

A shiver of relief ran down his spine. “You could have told me it was the wings, you know.”

“Would that have convinced you that your ohana loved you, no matter what? You’ve got a thick skull, Lucifer. Until you believed you had worth, you couldn’t stop hurting yourself.”

He crossed his arms. “My ohana. Really. One time, I watch that movie with the child, and even the hallucinations pick up on how much I liked it.”

She slapped him on the arm. “You know I’m real.”

He sobered. “I know.” He thought about all the convenient, self-esteem bolstering, conversations he’d had. “You instigated them, didn’t you?

“I’ve been a guide for a long, long time, Lucifer.” She shifted younger. “I’m totally good at it.”

He smiled at her change of tone, but frowned. “I can’t send you back yet. My wings are too damaged to fly and my body is too weak to survive fixing them right now.”

She shifted older, closer to ABC’s age. She patted his arm. “I know, dear. I’m usually in charge of shepherding people through nightmares, but you? You deserve a break. I’ll try not to watch _too_ closely, either.” She nodded back to Adam. “You want to finish that dream?”

“Why not? I’ve cause to celebrate!”

 

When he woke, the detective was holding his hand. She told him again that he was worthy to her, mortal or immortal. That he was her partner, and even when she was angry with him, that didn’t mean she was going to throw him away. Daniel brought pudding, and they watched _Body Bags 4_ together. Ella came and talked for hours about forensics while knitting the rest of the season two _Star Trek_ characters, though she did ask what had happened to her favorite knitting needles. Chloe and Linda exchanged a guilty look over that, and Lucifer figured knitting needles made an excellent wing splint.

His lungs healed fast enough that the doctor started using words like, “unexpected recovery time” and even a “spontaneous regression of organ failure” was thrown in once. Linda refused to give him details of what happened with his wings until he was stronger, but said that maybe one day they could all laugh about it. She didn't look like she wanted to laugh.

Lucifer felt rivulets of divinity returning, so he knew the damage had been patched well enough until he was stronger.

When he was healthy enough to go home, he asked that the child be allowed to visit. She refrained from tears and tackling him with a hug, both of which he appreciated, and she gifted him with a drawing expressing well wishes for his health. He allowed her to sit next to him and lean on his good side during the movie, sticky or not. Daniel the drawing hung on the wall in his bedroom across from the hideous gay mermaid clown painting for him.

They trailed in separately, but everyone watched _Lilo and Stitch_ together without teasing that he, not the child, chose it.

As the monster gave his speech, “This is my family. I found it all on my own. Is little and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.” Lucifer looked over each of them. They had much to cope with and fix, but no one was getting left behind, not even the devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far. This is the first full fic I have completed since, 2016, I think. I appreciate any and all feedback, even criticism, so please tell me what you really think.
> 
> Again, a big thank you to everyone that helped and encouraged me. 
> 
> Also, thank you to this fandom in general, for being a fic devouring beast. 
> 
> Seriously, there is so much activity and support from readers in this fandom, and you readers _deserve_ a round of applause.


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